


I Meet Where It All Began

by RagingBookDragon



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Humor, Light Angst, Pre-Relationship, Reader and Haytham are BFF's, She enjoys pissing him off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24797788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RagingBookDragon/pseuds/RagingBookDragon
Summary: “I didn’t get a hundred feet in here when I was attacked by a group of assassins.” She raised her shirt, showing the bandaged wound. “One of the sonsabitches stabbed me in the side, which I’m still pissed off at.” She swallowed and added, “New York? Haytham, we can’t touch New York. This city is in their hands, from the shopkeepers even down to the gangs.” He thought on her information before asking,
Relationships: Shay Cormac/Reader
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I still wish I could write out proper summaries, but I can't, for the life of me do it. This is just part one, I should have the next parts up sometime! Enjoy! -Thorne

She ran her finger around the rim of her tankard, watching as the rum inside rippled, resisting the urge to move on the barstool again. Every time she shifted, the fabric of her pants rubbed against her wound, and she pressed a hand to her hip, fingers gently prodding the bandage she’d hastily tied earlier. Two hours she’d been back in New York and already she was running from assassins again. A disgruntled sigh left her lips and she moved her hand from her hip to the bar, scratching a groove into the wooden top. A figure sat down next to her, and for a moment, she assumed it was the man she was waiting for, but the scent of sea salt and oak reached her nose, and she drew her gaze from the ratty flag above the bar to look at him out of the corner of her eyes. He wasn’t looking back at her, gesturing to the bartender, accented voice, one she recognized as Irish, calling, “A pint for me and-” She watched as he leaned over, glancing into her tankard before adding, “And fill up the lass’s rum too!” The bartender acquiesced, filling up her drink before he handed the man a pint, wandering off towards another patron. The man didn’t say anything, simply taking a drink of his beer, and she decided to breach the silence between them, murmuring,

“Is this the game you play with all your targets? Buy ‘em a round then stab ‘em?” The man chuckled.

“Game? I never play games with beautiful lasses like yourself.” She hummed, switching the tankard to her other hand, leaving her dominant hand free in case of defense as she observed,

“Small bar. Too crowded. Not enough space for us to fight. Too many innocent bystanders.” He went silent and she turned her head, fully taking in his image. Coffee eyes narrowed as they peered at her, and she quipped, “Can you seriously see with that mop on your head?” His brows furrowed and he reached up, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair.

“My hair’s not that bad.” She snorted, taking another sip of her drink.

“Just keep telling yourself that babe.” The tankard set against the bar and she let her voice become carefree as she threatened, “I know who you work for, and if you’re here, you know who I work for.” She stared him down. “You’re new to your little band, nowhere near as experienced as I am…do you really think you can take me on?” She watched as his hand that wielded his hidden blade twitched and before he could move, she jerked forward, one hand clapping his wrist to the bar, the other drawing a dagger to his torso. His eyes went wide as reality caught up with him and she quipped, “I’ll say it again, you know the man I work for, so you know exactly how experienced I am. With that being said, I don’t think it’s fair to slay people who’ve barely started their careers. So, we don’t really need to take this outside…we can simply let bygones be bygones and you can leave with your life. Sound good?” She watched his jaw clench, but he swallowed thickly and nodded, audibly sighing with relief as she pulled away, sheathing her dagger. He stood from his seat and turned, but stopped when she grabbed his wrist, and he looked down at her. “This is your only freebie assassin. Come after me again and I will kill you.” The Irish assassin yanked his arm back, spitting,

“My name is Shay Cormac, and I will come for you again.” She narrowed her eyes, feeling a smile cross her lips as she replied,

“(Y/N) (L/N). And I wait for your return.” He gave her one last glare before stalking off, and a minute later, another man took his spot, pushing the pint of beer away.

“Who was your friend (Y/N)?” She huffed as she reclined against the bar, elbows resting atop it.

“Some new assassin Achilles has recruited.” The man sighed.

“And you let him walk away?” (Y/N) chuckled, glancing over at him.

“Meh, he’s a shit assassin anyway. I knew he was here the moment he walked in.”

“How so?” The man gestured for a beer and she grabbed her rum, taking a swig.

“Most people, especially the rare men who aren’t idiots, leave the extremely well-armed woman alone when she’s drinking at the bar.” The corners of his mouth rose, but they quickly dropped, and she remarked, “Oh I know that look.” Leaning over, she nudged him in the side, the side glare he tossed her only egging her on. “That’s your ‘trouble in paradise’ look.” He scoffed.

“I do not have ‘looks’ and you do not know them.” (Y/N) simply hummed, watching as he stared into his drink.

“You hoping you can drown in that beer, Haytham?” When he didn’t respond, she murmured, “She found out you lied to her about Braddock, didn’t she?” He let out a grunt.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” A sadistic grin crossed her lips and she downed the last of her rum, waving the empty tankard to the bartender.

“Oh, you don’t, but I sure as hell do.”

“Of course you do. You’re nothing if not nosy.” (Y/N) nodded as the bartender poured her another round, and she asked,

“Can you fix it?” Haytham frowned and responded,

“She told me if I returned that she’d rip my heart out with her bare hands and feed it to the wolves, so, no…I can’t fix it.” She nodded knowingly, quipping,

“Gotta give her points for her restraint. If I was her, I probably would’ve done it anyway.” (Y/N) looked over at him and rested a hand on his forearm, drawing his eyes to her. “Look to the future Haytham. Perhaps the best is yet to come.” He tried to form a smile but only managed a grimace, and she joked, “Or maybe you lied away the best thing you’ll ever have. Whatever comes, you’ll still have me.” This time, a smile did form, and he chuckled.

“You can’t offer me sympathies without the wisecracks, can you (Y/N)?” She shrugged, pulling her hand away.

“I told you not to lie to Ziio. I told you it wasn’t wise to lie to a woman like her, but you ignored me and did so anyway. You’ve made this bed my dear. You don’t get to complain about resting in it.” Haytham’s face pinched and he turned to her, the anger evident in his voice as he bickered,

“I do not need you to tell me what I already know.” (Y/N) matched his glare as she retorted,

“Someone has to. You’ve grown a big head since coming over here and if you want to stay alive, you need to be knocked down a few pegs. No one else in this godforsaken order has the balls to talk back to you save me, so do me a favor and man up, because until I make you feel as worthless as you made Ziio feel, I’m-” She was suddenly cut off as he grabbed her arm, voice raised as he shouted,

“I already feel worthless about what-” Sensing the eyes of the other patrons on him, Haytham went silent, taking a deep breath before calmly stating, “I already feel worthless (Y/N). I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I left our camp.” Eyeing him a moment, she pursed her lips and nodded.

“Then I’ll relent…for now.” Haytham grunted and she waved the bartender over, handing the empty tankard to him. “Give him something stronger, and something to eat for us both.” As he walked away, Haytham rose, saying,

“There are other things I need to attend to.” (Y/N) huffed and drug him back down.

“Sit down. Tonight you’re going to drown your sorrows in ale and good food and complain to your best friend about every terrible thing in your life.”

“Are you counted in the terrible things?” She snorted, digging into the food the bartender set in front of her.

“Excuse you, I’m the only ray of sunshine you’ve got left.” Haytham snorted as he began to eat.

“I don’t know about sunshine…you’re more of a thunderstorm.” (Y/N) smiled at him.

“I’ll take what I can get Hayth.”

“You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“And I don’t care. Tell me something I don’t know.” A silence encompassed them, and she realized he had switched moods, the Grandmaster of the Templar Order coming out as he stated,

“What’s happened is in the past, and we need to look forward to the future.” She nodded and he continued. “Boston is secure, we’ve made sure no assassins can come in, but here…what do you know about New York?” (Y/N) scoffed as she bit into the roll and divulged,

“I didn’t get a hundred feet in here when I was attacked by a group of assassins.” She raised her shirt, showing the bandaged wound. “One of the sonsabitches stabbed me in the side, which I’m still pissed off at.” She swallowed and added, “New York? Haytham, we can’t touch New York. This city is in their hands, from the shopkeepers even down to the gangs.” He thought on her information before asking,

“Do you think you can get in and disorganize them?” (Y/N) reached up, scratching at the back of her neck as she offered,

“I might? Guerilla warfare is the best I can do. Get a group in, mess up some operations, and get out. But…if I do that, then they’ll just pick up and move to another location. If you want me to secure New York like we have Boston, I need men, and a lot of them. Or, just a few well-trained soldiers.”

“Would redcoats do?” She waved a hand, dismissing,

“Those jackasses couldn’t pour piss out of a boot even if the instructions were written on the heel. I need thoroughly trained men, not boys pretending to be someone worthy of attention.” Haytham nodded, then he paused, noticing the lack of sound in the tavern.

“It’s quiet.” Having noticed it too, (Y/N) muttered,

“Indeed…much to quiet for a bar at eight on a Friday night.” A quick glance to the bartender beginning to cower behind the bar made her suspicious. Taking a look behind her, she turned back to the bar, and he queried,

“How many?”

“Sixteen. Eight for each of us.”

“Men?”

“Four women, the rest are men.”

“Heavies?”

“Six.” She paused, wiping her mouth on the napkin. “Two are coming this way, a heavy and a woman. She’s on my side, he’s on yours.” Haytham mirrored her movements, wiping his own mouth before offering,

“I’ll go over, you go under?” (Y/N) grinned at him, and as the two assassins reached them, the two twisted, Haytham going above, her underneath, and the sound of metal meeting flesh, followed by pained screams echoed through the tavern.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, you know what I mean. Hateful, disgusting people who only care about dominating the everyday lives of the people.” She stared at him. “Did I capture what you were told about us pretty well?” Shay chuckled, bringing the tankard to his lips.
> 
> “You forgot the devils in the details.” (Y/N) hummed, a smile crossing her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally written the second part to this! Enjoy! -Thorne

She didn’t even knock as she opened the door, immediately announcing, “Haytham, I need to talk to you.” Greeted by the sight of her best friend and a few others from their order, she shoved her thumb towards the open doorway. “You lot, get out.” Her tone booked no room for argument, and they quickly bowed to their Grandmaster, gathering their things, and leaving. She shut the door behind them, stepping towards the desk, listening as he sighed,

“Thank you for dismissing them (Y/N), it isn’t like I had them in here for a reason.” She rolled her eyes, retorting,

“Oh hush. You can always give them their orders later.” She shoved a piece of parchment in his face, asking, “What the hell is this?” Haytham arched an eyebrow, countering,

“A piece of paper?” (Y/N)’s face pinched and she threatened,

“I’m in no mood for your sarcasm Kenway. Seriously, what kind of orders are these? I was supposed to meeting with the Iroquois tribes. Why’re you moving me?” He gave another sigh, taking the parchment from her.

“I need you to go to New York and help with the takeover. What’s the harm of changing orders?” (Y/N) scoffed, moving to the liquor cabinet he had, pouring a glass of whiskey. She collapsed into one of the chairs in front of his desk, taking a sip of the warm liquor.

“Perhaps it’s because I’m one of the only agents you’ve got that can fluently speak their languages.” Haytham lay the paper down on his desk, regarding her carefully.

“You’re also one of my only agents that I trust to get this done properly.” (Y/N) stared at him as she took another sip, propping her feet up on his desk.

“I’m flattered by your trust, but I think the former takes precedent.”

“Maybe, but with our newest recruit running around New York on his own, I don’t know if it’ll be enough. I need you there with him in case he needs backup.”

“From what Monro has told me, he’s a one-man army, taking care of the gang headquarters by himself.” She narrowed her eyes, observing him before asking, _“What’s the real reason you want me there?”_ Haytham huffed as he reached over, knocking her feet from his desk.

“Truth be told, he’s a new recruit straight from the assassins.” (Y/N) cocked an eyebrow, mild surprise spreading across her face.

“So _that’s_ why you want me there. To kill him in case he’s pulling our leg about being a templar.” He sighed and nodded.

“George speaks highly of him. He’s convinced the recruit wants nothing to do with the assassins anymore. Still, as much as I trust his judgement…” He trailed off, and she added,

“You trust mine the most.” Haytham met her eyes and nodded solemnly, and after a moment, she grunted, setting the glass on the desk. _“Fine. You win.”_ (Y/N) rose from the chair and turned to the door, but stopped, looking over her shoulder at him. “But as soon as you get my letter, you’d better put me back on my first mission.” He waved her off, but she took it as an ‘okay’ and made her way to the docks.

** A Few Days Later: **

She didn’t know what it was about Lower Manhattan, but the city always made her fingers twitch for weapons. Perhaps it was the few times she’d been stabbed while coming into the city, or the times someone had tried to pickpocket her. Either way, she kept her hand on the hilt of her saber until she reached the tavern. Monro had met her at the docks, telling her the recruit would be waiting in the bar for her. She still wasn’t happy with the orders, but if Haytham truly needed her in New York, then she’d oblige. Stepping inside, she cast a quick glance around, before making her way to the bar, taking a seat on a stool. The room looked familiar, and upon closer inspection, not only to the bartender, but to the still ratty flag that hung above his bar, she realized it was the same bar Haytham had met her in the year earlier. She let out a sigh, gesturing to the bartender. “Give me a coffee with cream and whiskey.” He nodded, beginning to make her drink when he asked,

“Have I ever seen you before?” She froze, mind flashing back to the very bloody bar scene after she and Haytham were finished. Giving him a smile, she shook her head.

“I don’t think so. I just have one of those faces.” Though he seemed somewhat unconvinced, he shrugged, setting a drink in front of her. She took a sip, humming with satisfaction before inquiring, “Got any news you’re willing to part with?” He rubbed a rag in a tankard, murmuring,

“I might.” She huffed, tossing a few coins on the counter, watching as he swiped them up, adding, “Word going around is that the gangs around New York are being toppled one by one by a man armed to the teeth.” She took another sip of her coffee.

“Anything you can tell me about him?” The bartender snorted, setting the tankard down before grabbing another one, giving it the same treatment.

“Not much to tell about him. I ain’t never seen him. But I’ve heard he strikes down criminals with cold fury.” The man paused, suddenly looking up at her. “With that being said, he’s been renovating a lot of the buildings ‘round here. And helping people with basic needs.” She gave a look of pleasant surprise, quipping,

“Sounds like a real knight in shining armor.” Before the man could speak, a voice sounded behind her.

“I don’t know about shining armor, but I’ll certainly take the knight part.” She turned on the barstool, taking in the sight of the man before her before muttering,

_“That smug bastard is laughing his ass off in Boston right now.”_ She huffed a laugh, sticking out her hand. “Hello again, Shay Cormac.” The Irishman took her hand, smiling at her as he retorted,

“It’s a pleasure to see you again as well, (Y/N) (L/N).” Pulling her hand away, she gestured to the seat beside her, watching as he took it, asking for a beer. The bartender put the pint in front of him and she murmured,

“We should take this to the corner Shay.” He nodded, following her to a table snuggle placed in the corner. (Y/N) settled into one of the chairs, letting out a sigh as she got comfortable. He did the same, though he stayed a little on guard. She regarded him a moment, then asked, “So how’d a bright eyed and bushy tailed shit assassin like you, end up joining the likes of us?” Many emotions crossed his face at once, offense, disbelief, annoyance, then, curiosity. He looked at her.

“What do you mean, _‘the likes of us’_?” She scoffed, taking a swig of her coffee, mocking,

“Oh, you know what I mean. Hateful, disgusting people who only care about dominating the everyday lives of the people.” She stared at him. “Did I capture what you were told about us pretty well?” Shay chuckled, bringing the tankard to his lips.

“You forgot the devils in the details.” (Y/N) hummed, a smile crossing her lips.

_“Ooo, I haven’t heard that one. I like it.”_ She let out a laugh. _“Makes me feel secretive.”_ Pausing, she looked over at him. “So, you never did answer the original question. How’d you end up with us?” A look of discomfort crossed his face and she followed up with, “If you feel up for explaining it right now.” The discomfort seemed to ease, if only a little, and he replied,

“Long story short, the assassins are messing with things they shouldn’t be, and after getting shot in the back by a close friend, I don’t think it’s wise to keep fighting with them.” She nodded, thinking on his words when he questioned, “So, why is the Grandmaster’s right-hand woman here?” (Y/N) let an easy smile show as she quipped,

“I’m just here to give you a hand with the gang takeovers.” His brown eyes narrowed as he regarded her, then he surmised,

_“You mean you’re really here to see if I’m serious about being a templar and not some double-agent spying for the assassins.”_ She ran her finger around the rim of her cup, murmuring,

_“You’re not as stupid and clueless as you look Cormac.”_ (Y/N) rose from the table, stretching her arms over her head, grunting as her joints popped. “C’mon it’s only eight. We’ve got time to takeover this headquarters here before the night is over.” He obeyed, rising to follow her, and as they stepped out onto the street, he questioned,

“Do you have any rules for me to follow?” She tossed a glance over her shoulder, saying,

“Clarify that.” Shay picked up his pace, walking beside her.

“I mean, even if you’re only here to ‘help’, you’re still my senior. Do you have any rules I need to follow?” (Y/N) thought on it a moment before turning down an alley, the headquarters coming into view. She stopped in the alley then looked at him.

“Only three.” He nodded and she quipped, _“Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”_ (Y/N) turned, pulling out her dagger as she neared a rope. Looking back at him, she smirked and added, _“And if you do, don’t get caught.”_ She was off, rising to the top of the building before he could say anything.


End file.
